John made it out of the door to 221B remarkably without any interference.
He went for his phone, and then remembered exactly what fate the device met. He found the nearest phonebooth, and called Molly.
"Hello?"
She sounded ok. News hadn't reached her then.
"Hey, Hi, Molly, It's John."
He fidgeted with the phone cord.
"Oh, hey John, didn't recognize the number."
John chuckled.
"I'm at a pay phone."
"Oh, what happened to your mobile?"
He found himself shrugging, and chuckled.
"Sherlock threw it into incoming traffic."
There was the wonderful of something clinging. Most likely a beaker.
"Oh, that makes sense, I guess. I mean it is Sherlock, and he does things that don't really make sense, to people, except you. Not saying that you don't make sense. Just that, well-"
John stifled a laugh at the poor woman's rambling.
"I get you. Anyway, I was wondering, if you would like to snag lunch this afternoon?"
There was the sound of papers shuffling.
"Umm, sure, is Sherlock going to be there?"
The note of apprehensive hope tugged at the doctor.
"Nope, 'fraid not. Just me. Still up for it?"
There was a muffled sigh across the line.
"Yes, sure."
Overly false cheeriness. She was really trying.
"Great. I'll meet you at Bart's in Twenty?"
"Thirty. I've a body coming in that I need to carve the kidneys out of."
The doctor winced slightly.
"Yea, alright. Gives me time to get a new phone."
"Right. Ok. See you then."
"Yea"
The line went dead, and he huffed, shaking his head.
She was going to be crushed.
Just when he was about to cancel his plan, the phone rang.
He picked it up, half expecting it to be Molly calling to cancel.
"I understand that you and my brother have finally gone to bed together."
John leaned his head against the cool glass of the phone booth, not even bothering to hide his exasperation.
Of course Mycroft knew.
He probably videoed the whole thing.
"What does it matter to you?"
His voice sounded gruff, commanding. The sort of militant voice he hadn't used in years.
"No need to use your captain voice. I only wished to extend to you my congratulations. It takes a special kind of creature to tolerate my brother. I'm tempted to have you knighted for bedding him."
John rolled his eyes. Knowing good and damn well that the elder Holmes could see him.
"Did you seriously just ring me so that you could congratulate me on shagging your brother?"
Mycroft's dry chuckled crackled through the phone.
"No dear Watson. I called to inform you of your new status. You are now at the same priority level as my brother. With level 2 clearance, and the other upgrades given to a Holmes."
John squared his shoulders.
"I'm his partner, not his husband."
Mycroft sighed.
"You know as well as I do that with Sherlock there is no difference there. You've practically been married since you stepped foot into 221B Baker Street."
John huffed indigently.
Looking back, he really has been under the detective's thumb all of these years.
"Fine. Yes, you're right. So what now? I get a camera in the shower and a trace on my credit cards. Your dogs bark at every eye that wanders in my direction?"
The laughter was genuine this time, full and bold.
"More like a government issue phone that I can keep tabs on, a few more minor gifts that my assistant will be bringing to you. Oh, and the opening of Sherlock's trust upon the day of your engagement."
John's mouth went dry.
"Trust? As in trust fund?"
"Yes. We Holmes' are a rather prestigious family, with quite a lofty sum in the bank. In an attempt at making sure that my dearest brother does eventually get married, Mummy dearest put a fair chunk of his inheritance in a trust."
John thought of the abundance of Sherlock's current funds, and paled slightly.
"He has more money?"
"I assure that the modest sum he is currently living off is little more than his earning from the cases he's solved. Moving on. "
John coughed and straightened up.
"You are now required to attend at least three formal functions a year, a stipulation that Sherlock does not follow."
He swallowed thickly, glancing at his watch. 20 minutes until he had to meet Molly.
"You will have the option of transportation at all times. Though I know that Sherlock will prefer the use of more public options."
John nodded.
"Anything else?"
" Yes. Just one thing. If you break his heart. If you leave him for any reason. I will personally hunt you down and end your life. John Hamish Watson will never have existed, your sister, her partner, their adoptive and potentially adoptive children will all be removed. If you want out, this is your one and only opportunity."
John nodded taking a deep breath.
"Yes. Fine. Alright. I love that git, I don't plan on leaving him." He could almost see Mycroft tapping his cane.
"Good. Good. Now, I do believe that you have a lunch date. My assistant will escort you to Saint Bart's."
Exactly on cue, the sleek black car rolled up to the curb, the door opening itself.
With the muttering of a man condemned he crawled into the back seat.